


permanence

by playmaker



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Drowning, Greek Mythology - Freeform, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-06 19:31:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13418133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playmaker/pseuds/playmaker
Summary: "Oh, Icarus!For all you have fallen,stillyou flew!And for a moment, the sun knew of you, too."-for those who smile as they drown and laugh as they fall, who are we to define tragedy, after all?|p.d.[or: a retelling of icarus in flying, falling, drowning, and rebirth]





	1. the flying | the falling

**Author's Note:**

> loosely based off of the super well-known greek myth of icarus & daedalus, but with obvious differences.  
> a story about complacency and fear and hubris and running away from things that hurt, but above all else, it is a story about found homes and second chances

**_i. the flying_ **

 

Andrew Minyard is bloodshot eyes and broken collarbones. He is the desire to jump from tall places and the hope that no one will catch you. He is the rotting underbelly of the world, everything evil collected and polished.

Because what is he, really, if not all the bad things that have happened to him?

Andrew Minyard needs, for the first time in his life, to run— to  _ fly. _

Before, he often thought:  _ I wish I was anywhere but here, anywhere at all. _

Now he is older, and wiser, and his edges are rougher. His touch cuts, and his gaze burns like the sun he yearns to reach. 

Andrew Minyard knows wishing gets you nothing, and so he decides to reach the sun himself.

He begins building wings of sharp, glistening metal and sticky wax. 

Aaron knows what he plans to do, he’s sure, but Aaron only watches with a complicated look in his eyes.

For all they are the same, their fates are too different. Aaron is destined to fall in love with a beautiful woman, and she will lead him out of the labyrinth with a shining thread of glittering jewels. She will  _ save _ him.

Andrew is destined to forge his own escape, and leap from towers, and soar over emerald seas. Andrew will save _himself_.

And so he does— or he tries. Eventually, when his wings are only half-made, Aaron comes to him. He looks sad, or maybe guilty.

_ I am leaving here _ , he tells Andrew. Of course, Andrew knows. He’s always known.

_ What about our deal?  _ Andrew asks anyway. Aaron looks away.

_ I’m sorry, _ is all he says, and Andrew can tell he’s speaking the truth. He lets Aaron go, and Andrew does not follow him, even though the beautiful woman said he could come, too. It isn’t Andrew’s fate, so he only nods at Aaron before his brother turns around and does not look back.

Every night, Andrew still gazes out over the ocean and wonders if Aaron is happier without him. Andrew decides he is not any better or any worse off.

Time passes, like it always does, and soon, the wings are complete. Andrew stares at them for months before he fastens them to his back.

Seasons pass, and Andrew waits. What he’s waiting for, he isn’t sure, but every time he stands on the edge of the stone balcony, impossibly high above the waves below, it feels too early. Fate isn’t ready for him yet. Or maybe Andrew isn’t ready for fate. 

So he waits.

His birthday passes, and the sun begins to set too early for him to even imagine soaring.  _ The water is too cold,  _ he tells himself, like it makes a difference.

Later, the days grow impossibly long again, and Andrew decides if he does not leave now, he never will.

The golden sun casts a glowing halo around the soft curls of Andrew’s hair. He feels like an angel, and thinks he must look like one too, even if his wings clink together like silver spoons.

Standing on the balcony feels like standing on the edge of the world. Andrew takes a breath, and, before he can blink, he jumps.

The salty wind tears through him, and he is falling, falling, falling towards the jagged rock and crashing tide below. He opens his wings, and the wind that was dragging him down is now cradling him, gently lifting him higher and higher above the sea. 

Finally, Andrew understands  _ home _ . He understands why Aaron left with the beautiful girl.

A laugh, clear and sweet, startles out of him before he even knew it was there. His face aches from the wind and from how hard he is smiling. He lived in the labyrinth, yes, but now he is truly  _ alive _ . 

The sun gently caresses his skin, pale from all those years waiting, and glints off of his back. His wings stutter in the wind, chiming like bells, and Andrew leans left and right, following the line of the sky towards the blinding beacon, towards his fate, towards tomorrow.

He flies for what feels like a lifetime, and he keeps grinning for just as long. Every breeze that takes him higher elicits another bubble of laughter, and Andrew has never felt like this before.

* * *

 

 

**_ii. the falling_ **

 

The sun blazes above him, warming his back, and all at once, it is  _ searing _ . The thick wax melts onto his bare skin, burning circles around each heavy droplet.

Glistening feathers are torn from his back by the wind, fluttering higher than Andrew will ever go again, just like dust in the breeze.

Andrew knows what this means. How couldn’t he?

He knew what his fate entailed from the start. Aaron knew, too, which is why he looked so shattered when he left Andrew behind in the maze. Andrew isn’t sorry, though. He can’t bring himself to be— not when he’s so happy. 

This is how his story is supposed to go. Aaron will leave with a beautiful girl and live forever, and Andrew will fly and fly and fly, and then he will kiss the waves and they will eat him whole. Aaron will live, and Andrew will die, but they will both be happy. It’s the only way they can be. If Andrew left with the beautiful girl, he would live forever and be miserable. If Aaron built a pair of faulty wings, he would not laugh as he fell.

And so, Andrew knows what this means.

Soon, all that’s left is the skeleton of his breathtaking, golden wings, and Andrew’s back is raw and bubbling with bloody burns. It hurts, but it’s the only pain Andrew has ever welcomed in his life, so he keeps laughing.

He falls slowly.

The sea is impossibly far away. It feels further away than anything else— further than all the people who have promised not to hurt him, further than his dark bedroom with the broken lock, further than his cousin and his brother who all met their stories before Andrew did.

It is hard to keep his eyes open. The wind makes them burn, but Andrew tries to see anyway. He twists in on himself, rolling in the sky like the wind is a blanket and he is tucking himself in. He faces the sun, watches it with watery eyes, and smiles and smiles and smiles. 

Andrew is laughing, but there is no sound. The wind has already ripped the breath from his lungs, and so his joy is silent. 

The sea is silent, too, and for a moment, Andrew feels like he is floating in the middle of the sky, unmoving. The sea is pulling him down, down, down, but the sun is bringing him up, up, up, and there is nothing for him to do but stay right where he is. He wishes he could float here forever.

But forever is not his fate, and he knows. He isn’t angry at fate— he would give a thousand lifetimes just to feel like this again, or to have felt it far sooner, before ghosts of fake brothers and lying mothers found him alone.

He thinks of Aaron and Nicky, one last time. He hopes they’re as happy forever as he is now.

Andrew soared and soared, blinding rays painting every bit of him into a glittering sunset.

Now, he is falling. He falls and he cannot stay awake long enough to feel the sea take hold of his battered body. The sun lulls him to his final sleep.

Andrew Minyard dies before he can even be thankful for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u enjoyed! pt2 is up tomorrow.  
> comments & kudos always appreciated!


	2. the drowning | the rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so. i was gonna Not do the whole reincarnation thing, but shit happened aaaand i did. hope you enjoy!

**_iii. the drowning_ **

 

On the other side of fate, the sea glitters turquoise and silver. As one life ends, another begins.

Nathaniel Wesninski knows the angel wreathed in gold is dead before his body touches the ocean floor.

He watches, mesmerized, as millions of impossibly small bubbles slip past the angel’s pale lips and towards the surface of the waves.

It’s strange— for all Nathaniel knows of his fate, nothing in his mother’s hushed prophecies or his father’s sick promises mention a golden angel. Perhaps it’s because the angel isn’t supposed to mean anything. There is a pull in his stomach, though, like a heavy knot tied around his ribs is yanking him towards the lifeless form of the beautiful boy, and Nathaniel thinks this _must_ be his fate.

Nathaniel hums, soft and sweet, and he drifts towards the fallen angel resting on the sand. The angel’s eyes are closed, lashes like pale silk dusting high cheekbones. All at once, Nathaniel is enthralled. There are _stars_ on his cold skin, forming constellations Nathaniel doesn’t recognize, but he thinks must surely be the portraits you see in heaven’s sky.

Nathaniel gently leans over the angel, staring and staring and staring so closely that his chest almost touches to the other’s. He raises his hands, slow and languid through the warm ocean water, and cradles the angel’s face in his palms. The golden threads of his hair sway slowly in time with Nathaniel’s silvery hums, encircling his head like a laurel.

 _Everything looks more beautiful in the sea,_ Nathaniel thinks, smiling tenderly at the angel, as if he is something Nathaniel lost decades ago, finally returned.

That’s what fate feels like, Nathaniel decides. It feels like everything you have ever missed coming home to you, just you.

All at once, Nathaniel is washed in grief, the tides turning in sorrow. A whale calls in the distance, low and mournful.

Nereids are not known for the tears they shed, but the songs they spin, and Nathaniel has never cried before. He has danced and laughed and fled from fathers and cursed sharp-mouthed mothers, but he has never _cried_.

Now, with a dead angel held in his scarred and battered arms, Nathaniel weeps. He weeps because the angel never did, even in life, even in death. Nathaniel has no choice but to ache for the both of them.

 _Andrew,_ Nathaniel whispers, sings like a lullaby, into the current.

And that too must be fate— the knowing, just _knowing_.

It sounds like a eulogy, rolled up and tucked in a glass bottle, tossed out to sea.

Nathaniel takes Andrew’s hand, light and limp, and holds it to his own cheek, leaning into the touch. He imagines Andrew alive and flying. He imagines Andrew laughing and soaring and never being afraid again. Nathaniel decides it isn’t fair that this angel, _his_ angel, had to die before he even got to see the ocean from underneath the waves. It’s selfish, and childish, but Nathaniel curses the gods all the same.

 _Why did you have to kill him?_ he asks Apollo. _Why did you damn him to this fate?_

The sunshine cuts through the sea, casting a stream of golden light turned silver on Nathaniel and Andrew.

 _Little tadpole,_ Apollo answered, a soft whisper from everywhere and nowhere at once. _Your angel is not dead nor damned. He chose his own fate and followed it home._

The delicate ray is stolen by a cloud, and the gods are silent.

Nathaniel shelters Andrew’s body with his, pressing the angel’s forehead to his chest, and he weeps.

The sun sets, and Nathaniel stays. He stays with Andrew, and he combs back his hair, and he sings, and he cries. Andrew sleeps. Andrew will always sleep.

Days pass, and Nathaniel does not sleep like Andrew, and he does not eat, and he does not move from his place on the ocean floor, cradling the only home he has ever known right in his arms.

Sometimes, small herds of hippocampi will swim by, nuzzling Nathaniel’s ear, and ask if he is going to die this way, with a dead boy in his arms.

 _He is an angel,_ Nathaniel insists. One of them whinnies, soft and mourning.

_He is just a human._

Nathaniel decides he does not care, and he tells them this. The hippocampi eventually stop coming, and Nathaniel realizes that he _is_ dying.

Dying is part of his fate, he understands, and so he does not leave Andrew’s side.

Nathaniel has not slept in months, and he knows when he does, he will not wake up again. Once he can no longer stand it, Nathaniel gently lowers Andrew’s body onto the sand. He lies beside him, and presses his cheek into the arm of his angel.

Slowly, and then all at once, Nathaniel dies. He knew what falling in love with an angel meant.

Of course he knew, and so he dies with a smile on his face and a lullaby on his lips.

  


**_iv. the rebirth_ **

 

The gods watch, because the gods are always watching. Apollo knew it would happen like this from the start. They all knew, but still, Aphrodite wails. She shrieks with sorrow and she carries with her heartbreak for the nereid and the human boy.

 _There is a way_ , Athena says, and it’s strange, because Athena does not care for tragic love stories. Aphrodite gazes at her, and her eyes say just that.

 _I've always watched the boy with wings, and I regret he never met the child of the sea,_ she explains, her voice even and strong, and Apollo sees resemblance in her and the boy who chased after him. He could have been a god, too.

 _How?_ Poseidon asks, his grief worn like a blanket of rage over one of his own who died for a one-sided love.

 _They cannot be gods,_ Athena clarifies, and Aphrodite sighs. She would have loved for the nereid to be a god, too. _But they can meet again, if we let them._

Athena gazes at Hades as she speaks, and Persephone gently touches her lover's arm. Hades sighs.

 _They can meet,_ he amends, and Aphrodite smiles as glittering tears spill down her cheeks. _But they will not remember. If the nereid’s love is true, and if the boy allows it, they will be together._

Apollo frowns, and Athena nods. It is more than Hades would ever allow, and so she accepts the conditions.

It takes thousands of years for their souls to resurface. The gods watch, and the gods wait. Artemis finds them first, and she tells her brother. Apollo passes the word to Aphrodite, who speaks to Persephone. Persephone breezes into her husband’s throne room, a shadow and a beast all at once.

 _It’s time,_ she tells him, and he nods. Persephone does not miss the smile the flickers across his lips.

The gods pull strings, like they always do. It's how the stories go.

Just like that, the key turns, the locks click, and the threads of fate weave a new story.

Nathaniel’s eyes find Andrew first, and his heart stops. Andrew catches the sharp intensity of Nathaniel’s murky brown gaze and thinks: _Oh, now this might be interesting._

 _Better luck next time,_ Andrew says to the boy who is _right_ in every way, but still looks _wrong_.

Nathaniel— Neil, this time— spits.

 _Fuck you,_ he tells his angel, and fate gives them a lifetime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments & kudos appreciated!  
> sorry if it didnt go the way you expected... i changed things last minute.


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